leave the soul alone
by shadowinthedark13
Summary: Love is anything but eternal. Rebekah knows this best.


**leave the soul alone**

* * *

Rebekah lives a thousand lifetimes.

She is a queen, a warrior, a god and a conqueror; she is a sister and a lover. She learns so many languages that her head spins just trying to remember them all, and she meets millions of people, kills thousands, brings hundreds back, and loves only a few.

Nik is there through most of it, always by her side (no, no that's not right, she is at _his_ side). He is her constant throughout it all. She loves him when he calls her beautiful, when he kisses her. She loves him when he screams at her, grabbing at her bloodied nightgown, the feeling of that dagger still fresh. She loves him when he daggers her brothers, and loves him after he's daggered her.

She is his constant as well, though he doesn't seem to notice.

* * *

Rebekah wakes.

Nik is there, brilliant grin and golden hair like her own. He looks so incredibly happy that she almost feels bad shoving that dagger into his belly. But then she remembers that he did this to her because he is cruel, and so if she has to be cruel too, then that is just fine.

And then Stefan is there, eyebrows furrowed, mouth a thin line. Klaus says, _Remember,_ but the only thing that changes is the way he looks at her. Like she is a monster.

* * *

Rebekah watches.

She watches as Elena (Stefan's Elena, Klaus' Elena, _Tatia)_ presses the pictures flat to the desk, words like _hybrid_ and _original witch_ pouring from her stupid mouth like she has any idea what they mean.

_Klaus killed your mother,_ she says, using those brown eyes and Rebekah can't breathe, can't see straight, can hardly even move, because that's not true. Not _Nik._

Even as she shoves the doppelganger's back against the wall, mouth open in a snarl, teeth elongating and veins popping, she knows this girl is telling what she believes is the truth. And now that she thinks about it, hand curled against Elena's collarbone, she might be right.

* * *

Rebekah keeps her mouth shut.

* * *

For a brief time, the feeling of her necklace, the familiar weight of it against her collarbone calms her. It makes Rebekah think that they can pull this off; that they can kill Nik.

But then she sees Elena—no, the _doppelgänger's—_stupid face, and hears her stupid words, and Rebekah is once again played for a fool.

* * *

It feels good to hurt Nik, shove a dagger into any close skin she can find. He has no clue how the darkness of death feels, pressed in and around you, clogging your pores, seeping into the marrow of your bones. There are so many realms of death, Rebekah knows, and she thinks hers might be the worst.

But when he comes to her room hours later, whispering things to her, telling her how sorry he is, she can't help but let him close, feel the rasp of his chapped lips against hers and she knows without a doubt that she loves him, even if the dagger he's shoved into her chest left her cold and empty for so long.

* * *

Those who say love is eternal are wrong. Love is fleeting, momentary. Love comes back every once in a while and gives you a quick taste before it rips itself away from you once more.

Love is anything but eternal. Rebekah knows this best.

* * *

_I've loved you through everything and you don't even care,_ she cries, tears dripping down her face, onto the floor and her shirt. The blood in her hand smells vile, a smell she has come to associate with the doppelgänger.

Nik looks livid, crazed. Looks the way he would after battle, after he'd condemned someone to die.

_It's always been me;_ she needs him to see this. In a hundred years, Caroline Forbes will be nothing but a fleeting memory, something that could have been but never was; a star that burned brightly for a second, and then burnt out just as fast. In another thousand years, it will just be them. _Not Finn, not Elijah, not Kol, me._

He snaps her neck with ease, like he's done it a thousand times. And who knows, maybe he has.

* * *

She thinks of her knight, the one with the dagger and the ashes. He must have loved her, even a little bit. Nobody could pretend that much. Nobody could kiss that well and so wholly if they truly did not care.

But, of anyone she's ever met and loved, she could have loved Stefan an awful lot if she'd been given the proper chance. He would be a good father, a wonderful lover and a better friend. But, he is a liar now, and one that is in love with a girl with a thousand faces.

"I'm sorry, Rebekah."

It sounds honest, she thinks, then says, _Do it—_

* * *

She wakes gasping, April's face hovering above her, disbelief etched into her plain features. Rebekah wakes and knows that April is the only person she can trust, the only friend left. _A human,_ she laughs to herself, insane and dark. _Saved by a human._

"Thank you, my friend." Rebekah smiles, thinks about the hearts she should rip out, thinks about the brothers she has been forgotten by. Thinks about dying and coming back and dying once more.

"What _are_ you?" April asks.

Something feral rises up in Rebekah and she grins something awful, "A monster."

* * *

Finn dying was nothing she could not handle. She had never been particularly close with that brother of hers, and when he had conspired with their mother to kill the lot of them, she liked him even less. So no, Finn dying did not affect her much.

Kol dying, however, broke her heart. Next to Nik, he was her favorite. He was the one who knew her best, the one who could read her thoughts with only a glance. They were born in the same year, and when she finds out that he is dead, Rebekah can't breathe.

But Stefan can, and he doesn't seem bothered by it. No, he seems a bit happy, and Rebekah wonders who is next. Certainly not Nik, because then they will all die, but with Elijah gone into hiding like a _coward,_ she is the only option left—

* * *

For a while she likes Elena. At least, she likes the girl when her emotions are turned off, but then things get far too bossy for her liking, and she is playing a game she knows nothing about. Rebekah stays around though, because if there is anything she likes more than winning, it's watching other people's plans go up in flames.

* * *

Rebekah takes the cure, not casting Damon even a glance before she downs the vial, tasting the sweet, thick liquid in her mouth. It tastes faintly of herbs and—

* * *

She will kill Katherine Pierce, Katarina Petrova, whoever she is now. Rebekah swears it.

* * *

"It's not _fair,"_ Rebekah gasps for air, sobs and cries. She is loyal, the only loyal one left, and this is her reward? The doppelgänger is human again, Silas is gone and dead, and once more she is cast away, not needed, not wanted.

Nik stares at her from his place by the fireplace, shadows make him look his age, and not for the first time Rebekah can feel her age too. Can feel the years seeping into her bones, the faces she's lost seared into her mind. "It—it's not _fair,_ Niklaus!" She curls her fingers into the floorboards, feels her nails break and peel. She can't breathe or feel anything; her chest is hollow and empty. "Why is it that I never get the things I want?"

Rebekah presses her face against the floor, tears and saliva and blood leaving her cheeks slick.

"We've never gotten the things we want, little sister," Nik says in a low voice, and Rebekah thinks of the sun and moon, werewolves and vampires. She thinks of blonde hair and a wide, easy smile. _You're right,_ she wishes to say, but can't push the words out of her throat.

Instead, "So you are leaving once more. Running away." She wants to be cruel, unkind to her brother who promised her always and forever and instead gave her knives dipped in ashes and a family of coffins.

"Not running; leaving. I'll be the King once more in New Orleans by the end of the year, I swear it."

Rebekah wonders why he doesn't dagger her, why he is even giving her the time of day, wonders, "Why can't I come with you?"

Nik is throwing things into the flames, pictures and letters and jewellery. He says, "Because I don't want you to. I asked you before, but you would not come. I do not offer things twice. Maybe in a hundred years or so I'll come back; look for you."

_I won't be here,_ she thinks, pushing to her feet, nails and teeth and throat bloody, eyes wet and hair in knots around her head. _I'll leave too, after I raze this town and these people and that _girl—

"I do love you, Rebekah."

Rebekah thinks, _you might have, once._ _Perhaps a century ago, when I was foolish enough to believe we had the world in our grasp._

Rebekah thinks, _I love you too, brother. I love you, always and forever._

She closes her eyes and sees a witch with golden hair, a boy with his chest in ribbons. Her own hand burns when held in the sunlight, and her mouth fills with blood as she ravages a young woman's throat.

Nik is there, pressing his lips to her cheeks, her forehead, her lips. "I'm sorry, love."

Rebekah remembers a stake in the bottom of a chest, the melted silver running down it like vines. "Yes," she nods, but he's gone.

* * *

Sometimes, Rebekah will wait outside the Mystic Falls preschool.

She'll play on her phone or gaze around at all the parents there to pick up their children, and when those same children come rushing through the doors, screaming and laughing and playing with their friends, Rebekah pretends like a child with hair like sunlight will come rushing toward her.

It's foolish, yes, but if she has proven anything, it's that she is a fool.


End file.
